


Curiosity Killed The Cat

by A_reluctant_dreamer



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, They are both art models
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 11:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20191369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_reluctant_dreamer/pseuds/A_reluctant_dreamer
Summary: Peter has been modelling in an art school for years. He's used to strangers' eyes roaming his body - clothed or naked -, and he knows that it's not him they are looking at. Not him who they are interested in. He's just a model, a tool for their work. And for a long time he doesn't notice the one pair of eyes that, despite seeing him but rarely, is looking right at him.





	Curiosity Killed The Cat

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a fill for the Models AU square of my starker bingo 2019 card.

Peter has been modelling ever since he turned eighteen. He loves the colourful chaos of the studios, the scrape of the pencils on paper, the smell of paint and turpentine. The long hours he spends posing for pictures are a form of meditation for him. He feels alive under the gazes meticulously observing his body; he feels free. Because those eyes aren't looking at _ him_. They are just looking at their model for the day. It's safe and oddly unobtrusive.

Once his classes at the university are finished, Peter goes to the art school four times a week. He usually walks, preferring to move his limbs a bit between sitting in classes then lying motionlessly for hours. He usually arrives early enough to have lunch at the Indian place at the corner. He almost always walks into the building just before break. And he almost always runs into the same dazzlingly handsome older man. They exchange a glance, sometimes even a smile or a nod before going on their way. Peter likes having a routine. It's almost like a ritual, a sort of preparation, so that by the time he takes on his position, he's completely centred.

One day however his routine is disrupted by an uncommonly heavy downpour. Rain usually doesn't deter Peter from walking, but the weather is already turning chilly and studios aren't very well heated. It would be foolish to lie in there with soaked hair for hours. So, he takes the subway and arrives a good half an hour earlier than usual.

He decides to take a walk in the building to get at least some exercise. He goes up the stairs and down the corridor. He looks at the pictures hung on the walls and hears the noises of the theoretical classes going on in some of the classrooms. The last door in the corridor is ajar. Curious, Peter walks up to it and peeks inside. When he glimpses the man, he always sees leaving, Peter gasps.

He's naked and now that Peter has a chance to really look at him, he looks even more beautiful than before. His dark curls and his salt and pepper stubbles frame his features handsomely. His body is chiselled and perfect but for a huge scar on his chest. And his cock looks impressive even despite the chill of the classroom. Peter lingers for more than what’s prudent and only steps away from the door when the bell rings and, stirring from his dreamy state, the man's eyes dart straight at him.

Peter is out of breath by the time he reaches the classroom where he's supposed to be. He tells himself that the man didn't see him over and over again. But the shame that colours his cheeks and the fright that sent his heart pounding feel sweeter than normally, so much that Peter has to take a few deep breaths to will his erection away before stripping for the class.

Two weeks pass and Peter revisits the memory in his dreams almost every night. He sees the man and he's naked, but instead of lying on the sofa, he's sitting with a sketchpad in hand and he’s looking at Peter with those deep dark eyes, seeing him no matter how he tries to hide. Despite being dressed, he feels naked under that stare. His cock is growing harder with every second. He wants to pull open the door and walk over to the man but before he would make his decision, he wakes up. Sweaty and aching with need, he jerks himself off and tries to go back to sleep, only to wake up in the morning, his cock hard and his head full of images of the man again.

Desperate to somehow get the whole thing of his system, Peter decides to stay back after he's done modelling one Friday afternoon. He hangs around by the vending machine until the corridor empties, then walks over to the classroom at the end. His knees are weak, almost as if he was going to meet someone in there, while it's only him and his desire. As he approaches the heavy white door, it hits him that he might find it closed. Maybe that would be for the best, putting a stop to this ridiculous plan. But he doesn't stop. He needs to try. He wants to be there. To touch the leather where his body lay.

He pushes down the handle with shaking fingers and lets out a trembling breath when the door moves. He steps into the room and takes a look around, but his gaze gravitates back towards the brown leather sofa in the far end. He walks closer, his heart beating faster with every step. Then, it skips a beat when he realises that it's not empty.

A black notebook lies at the far end of it. Even though Peter knows that it could belong to anyone, he can't get rid of the feeling of familiarity. It looks just like the sketchbook from his dreams. He picks it up and runs his finger down the cover. The sight of the embossed initials at the corner makes his chest ache with longing. He doesn’t even know the man's name and yet the _ T _ and the _ S _ stare at him as if confirmation.

Peter stands there, heart beating in his throat, almost as excited as when he first glimpsed the man on this very same sofa. It feels almost as intimate, too. He itches to take a look at the contents even though he knows it's an indiscretion. Eventually, his curiosity wins out at he opens the book…

And nearly drops it. Staring back at him from the soft paper is _himself_. Something hot courses through his veins and settles as a pressure at the pit of his stomach. Someone is drawing him. Not one of the many for whom he models but someone who _really_ _sees_ him. Another hot wave runs through his body at that and he swallows even though his mouth is dry. Peter keeps staring at the drawing, then he flips through the pages and finds many more. Sometimes it's just his lips or his eyes, but mostly it's his face – almost as if someone was studying him. Someone who sees him enough to be able to memorise his features. Someone who is interested.

Peter shudders. He closes the books and slips it under his jacket as he hurries outside. He has no memory of his journey home. He just sits on his bed staring at the initials on the cover. He wants to open the book and look at the drawings again, but it makes him feel odd. Naked. Beautiful. The realisation takes his breath away. He puts the book to his bedside table, strips and touches himself, eyes glued to the sketchbook. He draws it out, savouring every sensation before coming all over his chest with the man's image in his mind's eye.

The wait over the weekend is torture but at least Peter can sleep again. His emotions however are all over the place. He’s excited, curious, nervous but mostly impatient. Monday morning he’s acutely aware of the little black book lying on the bottom of his bag. He’s fidgety all through his morning classes and keeps checking his watch every five minutes. When the time finally comes for him to leave for the art school, he decides on taking the subway. Sure, they always run into each other when Peter gets there on foot but today is too important to risk missing the man.

When he gets off the train, he realises that he’ll arrive 20 minutes before the bell is ought to ring. Preparing for another agonising wait, Peter walks somewhat dejectedly towards the school building. However, as he rounds the corner the first thing, he sees is the man, leaning casually against the wall by the entrance, looking suspiciously as though waiting for someone.

Peter approaches him, his heart hammering madly. He stops in front of the man and fishes out the sketchbook from his backpack.

“I believe this is yours,” he says holding it out.

The man takes it, but his eyes never leave Peter’s.

“You looked at them,” he replies. It’s not a question.

Peter can feel a blush colouring his cheeks, but he holds the man’s gaze and nods.

“Haven’t you heard the saying about a certain cat?” the man asks scoldingly, but his smile betrays his tone.

“It has to do something with satisfaction, doesn’t it?” Peter asks with the most innocent expression he can pull off while a mischievous grin is tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The man chuckles and holds out his hand.

“Tony Stark.”

“Peter Parker,” Peter replies and even though his heart skips a beat when their hands touch, he lets the joy filling his chest spread on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> The title and the conversation play with the proverb _Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back._ Please don't take this note as condescending but the joke is quite lost without it.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. Let me know in the comments ;)


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